"Rush it—rush it!"
"Explode something, there."
"Trimble, got to get your chorus in here. Rush 'em in!"
"Oh, that's enough atmosphere!"
"The public wants dancing!"
"All right! Strike for the second act!"
The curtain rolled down and up, and the scene-shifters flung themselves on the ravine. Brangstar went out to a saloon, strewing curses; Guntz, Borgfeldt and Keppelman followed to celebrate; and Blainey, moving up to Massingale, said, with a shrewd twinkle:
"Well, Judge, how do you like the first act?"
"Tim, if I had you before me I'd send you up for ten years!"
"Not if you had your money behind it, you wouldn't," said Blainey good-humoredly. "Art be damned. I'm here to make money—yes, as every one else is, in this town! I know what the public wants, and I soak it to 'em. Why, this show wouldn't run six nights on a South Troy circuit!"